


Kick Off

by jestbee



Series: Fic Every Day in June 2018 [12]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Football, Enemies to Lovers, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Football, Football | Soccer, Getting Together, M/M, Rivalry, Sports, football coaches Dan and Phil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-30 02:27:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15087011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jestbee/pseuds/jestbee
Summary: Dan used to play football but now he's stuck coaching a second league team thats in danger of relegation. He's fallen out of love with the game, his team hates him, and Phil Lester, the coach of their biggest rivals, is the most annoying person he's ever met.Luckily life is a game of two halves and things are about to take a turn for the better.





	Kick Off

**Author's Note:**

> This prompt actually came from my Fiance.  
> I was doing the dishes and he walked in and said "I think you should write a fic today about Dan and Phil as rival football coaches that fall in love."  
> I know nothing about football but apparently that didn't stop me writing him a 6k in one sitting.  
> I guess I love him or something. 
> 
> Come yell at me on [Tumblr](http://jestbee.tumblr.com) about it.

A light mist of rain was descending on the pitch. It pooled in his collar and droplets ran down between his shoulder blades and dripped off his hair not to mention that on top of that they were losing to their biggest rivals, which always served to put him in a bad mood, so all in all Dan was not having a good day.

He was going to give the team hell after this. They were sluggish, left wing was all over the place and the defenders weren't as tight as they'd practised, it was like his half-time speech has meant absolutely nothing at all. The locker room was going to be blue with the language he was going to use, Lee was going to get an earful for all the fucking showboating and Sugg? Sugg was just a let down. Where was that blessed right foot he'd heard so much about? 

He knew the transfer had been a mistake but management never listened to the coach. 

He'd been with the team all of six months so he hadn't really had a chance to really put his mark on it. To be honest, he didn't really know what that mark would be. Things were entirely different form when he was playing. 

He gave up looking at the game. There was absolutely no point when Pieters had taken a dive twenty minutes in and was still bitching from the bench behind him. Instead he watched the team across the way. 

Forget the team, and the rain, and the fact that they were losing, standing at the other end of the pitch with a great bastarding smile on his face was Dan's biggest problem. 

Phil Sodding Lester. 

Sweetheart of the nation and ray of magical fucking sunshine even when his usual high-ass quiff was plastered to his forehead giving him a styling reminiscent of a emo teenager in the early noughties. 

Come to think of it, Lester probably _was_ an emo teenager in the early noughties. That must be where the black hair dye came from because no way it was natural. Britain's worst kept secret though, that one. 

Phil was jumping and waving his hands excitedly. He turned around every now and again to consult the players in the box behind him, for feedback or just to shoot the breeze, and he looked just pleased as punch to be winning. Of course he was. 

The next time he looked round he caught Dan's eye and shot him a huge thousand-kilowatt smile. His eyes crinkled, his tongue stuck stupidly to the corner of his mouth and he lifted his palm in a jaunty wave. Dan could only imagine what the commentary would be saying if the cameras caught that one. 

Dan scowled in return and quickly turned back to the match. 

-

They lost. Of course they lost. And the team was noisy and shouting and jeering each other all the way back to the locker room. Dan followed right behind them, his blood boiling. 

The door had barely closed behind him, players scattered across plastic benches, the metallic rattle of lockers in the air when Dan just lost it. 

"What the fuck was that?" 

Lee turned around and fixed him with a dead eyes stare. "Football," he said, "or do you not remember what that is?" 

Pieters high-fived him and a couple of others whooped and laughed right along with him. He knew what this was, haze the new coach, he'd been on the other side of it plenty of times before now and he was damned if he was going to let it get to him. 

"From what I saw Lee it looks like you're the one who could use a reminder. You do realise you aren't meant to play all of the positions yourself, yeah?"

Lee had his head back in his locker and he mumbled something Dan couldn't hear. 

"What was that?" 

Sugg walked up to Lee and hit him on the shoulder as Lee pulled his head out and met Dan's eyes with a defiant stone-faced expression. 

"Leave it, Casp." 

"No," Lee said, "I'm not being talked to like that from some has-been." 

The room went quiet, a few murmurings coming from men in the opposite corner of the room was the only sound and Pieters was paused right next to Lee with his shampoo bottle clutched in his fist, mouth hanging open slightly. Dan had no idea why he was getting ready to shower, he'd barely played. 

"What?" Dan said. 

"Everyone knows the only reason you're here is because they made you retire. You can't play anymore. Face it, you've had it." 

Dan took a breath. These entitled pretty boys had absolutely no idea about football or teamwork or anything outside of their big paychecks, fancy cars, massive houses and model girlfriends. He wasn't about to be called a has-been by a bloke that equated to a toddler throwing his toys out of his pram. 

"They only thing I've had," Dan said, "is enough of your attitude. Laps, next practise." 

"Laps?" 

"Around the pitch?" Dan said, "You do know what laps are?" 

"You're making me run laps?" 

"Yup." 

Lee sounded incredulous, like he'd never had to do a hard days work in his life and well, that wasn't going to fly. Not with Dan. 

"You're mental." 

"I must be," Dan said, nodding along like he agreed completely. "To ever think I can whip you lot in to shape. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to go and explain to the press why the hell we performed so badly today." 

With that he left the locker room, making sure to let the door slam behind him with a loud bang. Just to get his point across. 

-

Thankfully, it's Louise doing the interview. 

"Darling!" she said, holding her arms out to him until he gave her a faint hug. She knocked her glossed lips onto his cheek and he swiped at it to remove the shine as they parted. "How are you?" 

"Oh you know," Dan said, straightening his shirt, "same as I always am." 

"Not the best game, was it?" 

Dan laughed, "Has the interview started already Lou? You usually wait until the camera is actually point at me." 

"I see you're taking it well," she said with a knowing glance. 

"I'm taking it just fine." 

"Well Mr grumpy. Are we still on for drinks next week?" 

"I've got the Gala dinner," Dan said, "Aren't you going?" 

"I'll be covering the carpet, couldn't get a pass for the inside though."

"Well, I'll sneak you out some canapés," Dan laughed, "I know how you liked those." 

Louise looked positively gleeful at the prospect of that. Soon the cameraman was tapping her on the shoulder and her attention was diverted while they fiddled with the settings. 

These things always took way longer than they should. So long in fact that of course Phil Lester arrived before it had even started. 

"Dan!" he said, that mad smile on his face and his perfectly quiffed hair put back to rights. Did he ever look upset? What was his deal?"

"Phil." 

"Good match," Phil said, hands in his pockets, rocking slightly on his feet. "Nothing like a warm up game before the tournament kicks off is there?" 

"Yeah," Dan said. "Nothing like it." 

"Oh, boys," Louise said, turning back around. "I didn't know you knew each other!" 

"We don't really" said Dan. 

"Not yet," Phil smiled, "but I'm sure we'll get to know each other very well." 

"Good, good. Well, we're all set up here. Who wants to go first?" 

Phil looked over at him, "Do you--?" 

"No," Dan said, "By all means… winners first." 

Phil chuckled like that was some kind of joke and stepped into the small space in front of the backdrop bearing the TV logo and the main sponsor of Louise's broadcast. 

What followed took about five minutes, but honestly it was enough. Louise asked questions and Phil responded, up beat and gleeful over his win. He praised players by name, seeming to know absolutely everything about every single one of them. 

Where the hell did he get his energy? 

"Lighouri is a treasure," Phil said, "Of course. And Hill is the best goalkeeper we could hope for. Things just went right for us today. But we can't rest on our laurels, the cup matches start in just a few short weeks and we're working hard to make sure we're prepared." 

He went on to talk about the team they're pulled in the first round and how they'd be a formidable opponent. The only word for it was _humble_. Phil was the epitome of demure and self effacing. It made Dan sick. 

Then it was Dan's turn. Phil left the interview area and they shifted around each other so that Dan could take his spot 

"Good to see you, Dan," Phil said, as if they'd just bumped in to each other on the street. 

"You too," Dan said before he realised what he was saying. 

It had been a long day, and he just wanted this to be over so he could go home and get into some dry clothes and not have to think about sodding football until the next day. 

Phil left and Dan turned back to Louise, ready for the first question. 

-

"No, no, no," Dan shouted, "Pass, Pieters… you do know what passing is?" 

"Do you?" Lee shouted from behind him. 

Dan spun around to see Lee jogging along the touch line. He was happy to see that his face had gone a brilliant shade of pink and he appeared to have a sheen of sweat on his brow. 

"Sorry," Dan said, "I can't hear you over all of those laps you should be doing." 

Lee offered him a half-aborted rude hand gesture that would definitely get him a card during a match and ran right on past. 

"Now… Pieters... " 

Practise was terrible. The team didn't listen, they couldn't do the plays Dan had devised and there was no getting through to them. It was like pulling teeth every step of the way and Dan didn't know how much longer he put up with this before he just packed it all in. 

It was probably a mistake, all of this. Maybe they were right, maybe he _was_ past it. Ten years playing and then a knee injury that meant he'd had to quit for good. He'd spent six months in physical rehabilitation, another six wallowing in his own self pity and then finally, he'd been offered a coaching job for a league two team that was in danger of relegation. It wasn't the most attractive offer, but it was the only one he'd gotten that wasn't presenting or commentating or god forbid writing a tell-all book. 

So it's been a while since he's actually played, and he's never played at this level, always at least championship or higher, so maybe the game had just moved on. 

Dan grit his teeth and watched the players sprinting around on the turf. How much longer could he kid himself that he could do this? 

-

Gala dinners were the stuffiest things ever. Aside from the bright lights of the red carpet on the way in and a short chat with Louise, there had been little by way of actual entertainment the entire evening. 

Dan was in a jacket he hated, his tie was too tight around his neck and if he had to make small talk with one more jumped up FIFA board member, he was going to scream. 

Finding solace on a bar stool seemed like his only option. 

The talks over dinner had actually been inspiring. FIFA had, it seemed, set up a children's charity using sports in the community to encourage activity and teamwork for underprivileged kids. They'd parade them out at matches, of course, trade in their good works for some good publicity, but kids might actually benefit from it so Dan didn't think it was all bad. 

"What can I get you?" The bartender said. 

He was a bit young, Dan thought. Probably in his early twenties, but that was old enough. 

"What do you recommend?" Dan asked, crooking an eyebrow. 

Maybe there was some entertainment to be found around here after all. 

"Um, I dunno," he said, "what sort of thing do you want?" 

"Me?" Dan asked, "I want something… sweet."

The lad blinked a few times before shrugging, "vodka and coke?" 

Dan sighed. The pretty ones were always so so dumb. "Sure," he said. "That'll do." 

The barman turned around to fix his drink and Dan dropped his head into his hand. So much for some light entertainment. 

"I'm not sure he's been drinking for enough years to know what's good," said a voice at his ear. 

Dan looked up, startled by the sudden appearance of another person, to see Phil Lester sliding onto the stool next to him. 

"He's not _that_ young," Dan said defensively. 

"I don't know," Phil said, "definitely more trouble than he's worth though. Don't you remember your twenties? Over-eager, going off at the drop of a hat? No thank you." 

Dan laughed, despite himself. "Speak for yourself," he said. "I suppose now you're the modicum of control?" 

"Oh no," Phil said, "Not controlled. More… experienced. I definitely don't need teaching anything, if you know what I mean. I know my way around the... " his right eyebrow lifted leeringly, "pitch." 

Was this flirting? What Phil Lester flirting with him at an industry event? 

Worse yet, was Dan enjoying it? 

"I'm sure you've got all the plays," Dan said. 

Phil stared at him for a short moment before humming in agreement. Then he shook himself, smiled and turned to the barman. "Make that two," he said. "On me." 

"I think they're on FIFA actually," Dan said. 

"Oh," and there was that kilowatt smile again. "In that case we'll have two tequila shots to follow, please." 

"Tequila?" Dan asked. 

"Yup." 

"Are you mad?" 

"Probably. You in?" 

Dan shrugged. It's the most entertaining thing that's happened all evening and he had been bored out of his goddamn mind so, "Yeah. Why not?" 

-

Practise was still shit. 

He'd pretty much given up trying by this point, because there was no saving them. They were just going to have to get relegated and Dan would resign himself having to present sports TV, offering tired old opinions over and over again and never get near a pitch for the rest of his life. 

He was sat in the stands when Louise rounded the corner. 

"Daniel," she greeted, shouting across at him.. 

"Louise. To what do I owe the pleasure?" 

"Oh you know me," she said, "always on the hunt for a story." 

"You've forgotten your cameraman." 

"So I have." 

"Why are you really here?" 

Louise smiled and dropped down into the seat next to him. "A birdy tells me you were getting _quite_ cosy with one Phil Lester at the gala dinner the other week." 

"Is that right?" 

"Yes. Don't worry, it won't go anywhere. But… do tell." 

"Who is this birdy that needs shooting?" Dan asked. 

"No one you know," Louise said, flapping a hand as if that wasn't the important part of the story. "Is it true?" 

"Is what true?"

She sighed. "Are you and Phil…" 

"No." 

"No?" 

"Yeah." Dan said. "No. We're not. I don't know how else to explain it." 

"So you're not going to see him again?" 

"We work together, Lou. I'm probably going to see him again at some point." 

Dan shifted in his seat. The conversation was making him uncomfortable because the night of the gala dinner had been fairly surprising. He'd talked to Phil for hours sat on those bar stools, and he'd stayed much later than he thought he would. 

They'd gotten fairly drunk by the end of the night, swapping stories about various players they'd known throughout their careers before moving on to other topics. Phil had always been a coach, he loved the game and he loved the players but he had no desire to actually play himself. He had a degree in sports sciences and a masters degree in something Dan didn't understand and he was just so…. Nice. And they had loads in common. 

Once they'd run out of football stories they'd moved on to TV and films and hobbies. They had so much in common is was completely ridiculous and by the end of the night Dan had found it extremely difficult to remind himself that he disliked him. 

"I mean are you going to see him again like… outside of work." 

"No," Dan said, his voice sounding wistful and disappointed. 

There had a been a moment as Dan was climbing into the back of a taxi when he'd thought Phil might kiss him. It had been a split second that was over before it even started but it had happened, Dan was sure of it. But Phil had pulled away, shaken himself a little bit, sucked in a breath and thought better of it. With another flash of that kilowatt-smile he'd packed Dan into the taxi and sent him home. 

It was a lost cause. 

"Well for the record I think you'd really get on," Louise said, happy to take his story at face value. 

"Yeah," Dan said, "Maybe." 

-

What the hell was he doing?

Phil had invited him, somewhere around their fourth drink, so Dan did actually have cause to be stood at the entrance to the pitch Phil's team were practising on. 

"Hello stranger," Phil said when Dan finally got the guts to join him at the side of the pitch. 

"Hi." 

"I'm so glad you decided to come." 

He genuinely seemed to mean that too, and Dan relaxed a little and looked out across the pich to where the team were passed balls back and forth. 

"Looking good," Dan said. 

"Yeah, they're a good bunch," Phil said. 

"How do you get them to.... Listen to you?" 

Phil had his arms crossed over his chest and he looked over. Even behind his sunglasses Dan could tell he as giving him somewhat of a side eye. 

"What do you mean?" 

Phil's hair was perfect again. A deep deep black that glimmered in the sunshine, flecks of a few lighter strands that Dan suspected was a hint of grey and definitely lighter parts at his roots where his natural colour was growing in. 

He suddenly had the urge to run his hands through it. 

"Like… how do you get them to do what you want?" 

"I mean, I don't order them about," Phil said. "We just work together. You know. Like a team." 

Dan frowned and blinked a bit, looking back over at the pitch. "They're the team," he said. "You're the coach." 

Phil just shrugged, unfolding his arms and nodding out to the players. 

"You remember what it was like to be them though, don't you? Would you have listened to someone ordering you about?" 

Dan thought about it for a few seconds, happy to watch the players running around in formation. "Fair point," he said, eventually. 

"I should think you'd probably be better placed than me to know how to get through to them," Phil said. 

"Yeah," Dan said, "you might be right."

-

"So," Dan said, clapping his hands loudly until everyone turned around to face him. "What did you do in practise before me?" 

"You what?" Lee said from the back of the huddle.

"What did you do in practise, what works best for you training wise?" 

"Yeah," Lee said, "Like you give a shit." 

"Oh shut up Caspar," Sugg said, rolling his eyes. "Just… give it a rest will ya?" 

"I'm just saying," Lee continued, "It's not like he's bothered to ask us before now, is it?" 

"No," Dan said, nodding along, "You're right. I haven't. And I'm trying to rectify that. So tell me… how can we work together to make this team the best that it can be?" 

Sugg took the lead. They spent about ten minutes talking over things they thought could work and when Dan suggested he had an idea and used an example of a match he'd played a few years ago to back up his point, the team were more than eager to attempt the exercise. 

By the time they were finished they were doing the manoeuvre as smoothly as if they'd been doing it for years and Dan was faintly optimistic that this might not be a complete waste of time after all. 

-

Match days always started early. There was warm up and pre-interviews and then the pep talk in the locker rooms before they all filed down to the pitch. 

Dan was filled with a sort of restless energy that only came from the beginning of a tournament. He had to remind himself that this was only the first round and it wouldn't do to get over eager, buttraining had been going well. The team were looking good, moving like a well oiled machine, and aftera few initial hiccups they were even starting to take direction. 

Dan had managed to introduce some of the plays he's so far been unable to and he was looking forward to seeing them in action. Even Lee had begrudgingly joined in when he'd realised things seemed to be going well. They had kind of an uneasy truce and it might just be enough to get them the win in this match. 

Dan wasn't even surprised to see Phil in the stands. HE was sat right behind the player's box and Dan had no idea how he'd swung it but he found himself smiling widely. Not quite a kilowatt-smile but it was enough. 

"Hi," he said, jogging over. 

"Hey," Phil said, and there was the smile. "Good luck. I caught the warm up, they're looking good." 

"Yeah," Dan replied, nodding, "we've come to an understanding." 

"Not bad being part of a team again, is it?" 

Dan just cocked his head and let Phil get away with teasing him a little bit. 

"So what are you doing after?" Phil asked. 

Oh. That was new. 

"Interviews," Dan said.

"And then?" 

"Then nothing. Commiserating my loss, maybe." 

"Celebrating your win," Phil insisted. "You wanna do it together?" 

Dan felt his stomach flip over. Phil was wearing glasses today and he looked impossibly cute. Dan couldn't even deny that the idea of doing something with him after the match, win or lose, had him wishing they'd blow the final whistle already, 

"Alright," Dan said. 

Despite wishing it away, the match took the usual ninety minutes with a half hour in the middle. They were one-nil up by half time and Dan didn't have to work hard to bring the enthusiasm as he bounded into the dressing room with a pep talk springing from him unbidden. 

Phil winked as he walked past and Dan felt the excited run all over him like scuttling ants. 

The match ended in a two nil win for his team and Dan gave a loud whoop of excitement and punched the air in a way he'd probably find embarrassing tomorrow. He'd never been known for effusive displays of happiness but god help him he was proud of them all. 

Louise had to calm him down before his interview because he was, she said, "Completely loopy." 

Dan didn't know if it was the win or the fact that Phil was waiting for him just inside the tunnel.

-

Phil had convinced the groundsmen to leave the floodlights on. He'd met Dan back at the player's bench with a ball under his arm and a come-hither expression. 

"Fancy a game?" he asked.

"Oh," Dan said, happiness and surprise showing through his tone, "You're on, Lester." 

-

"Dan Versus Phil," Dan said, "Howell races up the side, Lester's hot on his tail but there's no catching him now. Lester's too slow on his footwork, Howell's nearing on goal, he's lining up…." Dan stopped, the ball travelling with him. The moves come naturally as he stopped the ball by his foot, wound back his ankle, "He shoots, he-- Ah!" 

Just as Dan had the shot all lined up, the side of his foot connecting with the ball in a satisfying thwack, Phil ran up behind his with a quite illegal tackle and Dan his the soft earth with a thud. 

Phil fell too, landing on top of him, rolling them both in the mud so that they'd definitely have streaks of it all over their clothing. 

"Oh my God," Dan shouted, pushing at Phil, "Red fucking card, mate." 

Phil flopped on to his back, breathing heavily. "Don't I get some yellows first?" he asked, "I definitely heard somewhere they you're supposed to get yellows." 

"No," Dan groaned, rolling on to his back so that they were side by side, his hands splayed on his own chest. "No yellows. Red card. You're banned for life." 

"Harsh," Phil breathed with an easy chuckle. "You were doing well though, I thought you were supposed to be retired." 

"I am," Dan said. "I wasn't even playing that well and you resorted to dirty tactics. Did it even go in?" 

Phil rolled over on to his front to look in the direction of the ball. The action put him right along Dan's side, warm and solid. Phil looked up, straining to see where the ball had gone and he pressed a hand to Dan's chest to give him a little more leverage. 

"Sorry," he said, "missed." 

"Yeah right," Dan said, "I don't believe you." 

He lifted his head, made to get up but Phil kept the hand on his chest firm, pressing him back down against the ground. 

Dan let out a shout of indignation, cut off when he realised Dan was looking down at him with a burning intensity Dan could feel all the way down to his toes. But not before it had passed through other areas. 

"You know, since you won the match tonight it means our teams are playing each other next," Phil said. 

"I know," Dan said, eyes darting between Phil's eyes and his mouth. 

"If tonight is anything to go by I think I've got my work cut out for me." 

"Are we saying I've won tonight then?" Dan asked, letting the double meaning the words seem obvious. 

"You can win," Phil murmured.

"Yeah?" 

Dan's voice was a whisper as Phil's face moved closer, barely a hair's breadth between them. His mouth was plush and waiting and perfect and Dan swallowed, licking his lips.

"Yeah." 

They lips met violently. Pushing and teasing right from the off and it was hot, so hot that Dan let out a half-moan as soon as Phil's tongue pressed against the seam of his lips. 

He hadn't felt like this before, and he'd never kissed someone on a pitch beneath the floodlights. It was completely novel in all the best ways and Dan hoped it never ended. 

Phil, it seemed, was happy to oblige. 

-

Dan woke in his own flat and it took him a minute to remember why this morning was different. 

There was a pale arm slung over his waist and a warm body at his back and Dan shuffled backwards in to the heat of it, humming softly. 

"Morning," Phil said, his voice croaky with sleep. 

Dan turned. He was still shamelessly naked from the night before, sore in his muscles that had nothing to do with their little kickabout and Phil looks positively sinful and rumpled against his sheets. 

There was a blossoming mark on his neck that matched the dimensions of Dan's teeth and Dan ran his thumb over it and Phil's eyes fluttered shut. 

"Good morning indeed," Dan said. 

"Do you have anywhere to be today?" Phil asked, capturing Dan's hand and bringing it up to his lips to press a kiss to the flat of Dan's palm. 

"No," Dan says, "the guys have the day after matches off training." 

"Good." 

Phil pulled him closer, the sheets slipping away until they pressed bare skin to bare skin. Dan's breath hitched as Phil's hands let go of his wrist and wandered down underneath the covers. 

"You were right," Dan said with a gasp as Phil's head ducked down to follow the path he hands had started, "you certainly do know your way around a pitch."

-

They were sat at Dan's kitchen table, steaming cups of coffee clasped in their hands and Dan couldn't stop smiling. Phil had bare feet and one leg hitched up onto the edge of the chair and he looked comfortable. Like he belonged there. 

He looked like something hopeful. And Dan hadn't seen much of that around here lately. 

He was looking at his phone, scrolling through the news. He said he was going to find Dan's post-match interview after Dan had told him how stupid he'd probably sounded knowing Phil was waiting for him but suddenly Phil's face changed from gleeful expectation to uneasy annoyance. 

"Shit," Phil said, 

"Hm?" 

He looked up. The glasses were still on his nose and Dan now knows that sometimes he wears contact lenses but he secretly hopes that he'll stop doing it. Or that he'll get to see Phil wearing his glasses more often. They do something pleasant to his face that Dan can't explain. 

"We're… shit. Dan. We were spotted." 

"What?" 

Dan raised out of his chair, moving to the other side of the table to gaze over Phil's shoulder and squint at his phone. 

"Not on the pitch," Phil said, realising what Dan's panic must be about. "Getting in the taxi together. There are pictures." 

He tilted the phone so Dan could see and sure enough there they were. They were just getting in to a car, Dan in front of Phil, head ducking under the door. They weren't touching, but there was denying that it looked… cosy. Intimate even. 

"Oh." 

"Oh?" Phil said, "Is that all you've got to say?" 

"No," Dan said. "I mean… We can't. Do you want me to get on to the club's publicist? See what we can do?" 

Phil tipped his head up, phone dropping to his lap. 

"I…" He shook head head. The phone clattered on to the table as he put it down and he reached out for Dan's wrist. "I'm not bothered if you're not." 

"No?" 

Phil tipped his head up a little more and Dan leaned down to press a short kiss to his mouth that ended in a smack of lips as they parted. 

"Are you?" Phil asked, "Are you bothered?" 

Dan thought about it. There would be a bit of chaos getting it all sorted out and he was sure the press would have an absolute field day with it, especially as their teams played against each other next week, but Phil's bare feet were in his kitchen. 

Phil was comfortable and he _fit_ in a way Dan never expected anyone to be able to and he couldn't let that go. Not for anything. 

He was probably reading far too much in to one night, and he definitely didn't know where Phil stood on that, but if he was being honest, he didn't care.

"I'm not bothered," he said.

"Alright," Phil said. "Then we're not bothered."

-

Dan was once again at the side of the pitch when it was raining. This time though, he wasn't pissed off by the wind in his hair or the way the rain lashed down on his cheek and ran down his neck. He was yelling and jumping and caught up in the game and when he looked over at the other team's box and Phil smiles at him, Dan smiled back. 

Phil's team were one-nil up. A nice little goal from their striker made by a tight cross as a quick run he didn't blame his team for being unable to stop. 

"We'll make it back," he'd shouted across to Sugg who looked like the world was going to end. 

Lee was in possession. He ran up the pitch at a speed he'd previously have been unable to maintain but practically every practise he did something to merit laps so he'd gotten quite good at running. Dan had taken to giving them to him whether he deserved them or not and he secretly suspected Caspar was just going along with it because he'd seen the improvement. 

He takes it down the outside, passing to Pieters who has a look of intense concentration as he receives it and looks around for somewhere else to go. Lee put on a burst of speed, dodged around a couple of the opposition and made himself available again. 

"Josh!" he shouted, feet already at the ready. 

Pieters was quick. Really concentrating instead of the lazy way he'd been when Dan had met him, taking dives and throwing away easy opportunities. 

The clock was counting down, Dan could see the ref getting ready to blow the whistle for half time. Come on, Pieters, come on.

Pieters passed to Lee, Lee to White, White back to Lee. Lee came up against the defenders, winding around them with a skill Dan would previously have thought improbable and finally he could get it to Sugg. 

Sugg wound up, skillfully moving in to position, spotting and opening with ease. He lined up, twisting his body, kicking just enough, following through just the right amount and the ball went sailing through the air, top corner of the goal, skimming Hill's outstretched fingers…

The whistle blew, sharp and trilling over the roar of the crowd.

It was in. 

Joe Sugg scores! 

Dan let out a loud exclamation of joy, jumping up and slapping his thigh with the notebook in his hand. 

"Fuck yes!" he cried, earning him a reprimanding look from the linesman. 

They were even at half time.

The players filed out one by one. They looked positively enraptured as they did. A few months ago Dan could never have imagined that they'd get this happy over a draw, but then, he whenever imagined they'd be capable of a draw. And there was a whole half of a match to go. 

In the dressing room he just stood and smiled. 

"We're doing it," he said "Just keep doing it." 

The team had their game faces on and so did Dan. They were one team, this was his match as much as it was theirs and they were ready. 

"Go get 'em," Dan said on the way out. 

Off they went down the tunnel, clattering their studded football boots against concrete flooring. 

Dan made to follow them but was stopped by a hand on his arm. 

"Dan." 

Dan whirled around to see Phil. 

"What are you doing here?" Dan laughed. 

Phil crowded him up, back against the wall near the dressing room door and kissed him soundly. 

"I couldn't stop thinking about you," he said. 

Dan hummed. "Yeah," he said, "me either." 

Phil kissed him again and Dan laughed into his mouth. "Come on," he said, "it's starting, we'll miss it."

"Wait," Phil said, keeping a firm grip on his arm. "Please, wait. I want to ask you something first." 

"Yeah? What?" 

"I just wanted to know whether… because I've been wondering about it ever since that morning at your flat…" Phil trailed off, fidgeting with the collar of Dan's shirt, running his fingers over it to smooth it down. 

"What, Phil?" Dan said, "spit it out." 

"Well, I was just wondering if… me and you… if we could make it like, and official _thing_."

Dan let his eyes go wide and didn't stop the nervous half-laugh half-yell from sounding in his throat. "You want me to be your boyfriends, Lester?" he asked, his voice teasing and fond.

"Um…well, yeah." Phil looks sheepish and embarrassed, shyer than Dan had every seen him to be up to this point.

"Of course you daft idiot," Dan said, throwing his arms around Phil's neck and tilting his head down to kiss him once, twice, three times. The last one lingering for a moment, touching the tip of his tongue to Phil's bottom lip and then pulling away before they could deepen it further. "We've really got to go. I've still got a football match to win." 

"Yeah right," Phil said, pulling away reluctantly. "In your dreams." 

"We'll see," Dan said, "I think my team have got a pretty good chance." 

"Only one way to find out," Phil said, taking Dan's hand in his for a short second and squeezing their palms together. 

"You're right," Dan said, and led them out of the tunnel back onto the pitch where the rain was just beginning to slow.


End file.
